


when you break, i fold

by saresa



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Love/Hate, M/M, inspired by the pregrammy party
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-15
Updated: 2016-02-15
Packaged: 2018-05-20 21:47:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6026385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saresa/pseuds/saresa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zayn's success as a solo artist draws the attention of a suitor. Harry comes to his rescue (by making everything worse).</p>
            </blockquote>





	when you break, i fold

**Author's Note:**

> This is 100% inaccurate. However, I refuse to accept that Harry and Zayn did not speak at the pre-Grammy party.

He's Zayn Malik. His very first single debuted at number one.  He can fucking do this.

The girl rubbing up against him clearly agrees, so Zayn turns on all the charm he can muster. He peers at her underneath his - _long, seriously they're so long and pretty that I'm jealous Zaynie_ - lashes. He bites his lips. He lets his tongue peek through when he smiles. Every tactic that he used to get Harry to stop at his hotel room after practice is employed. Gigi would be proud. She's probably off at some other party driving some man insane. Zayn wishes, not for the first time, that their relationship was exclusive just so he wouldn't have to awkwardly stand alone.

Whatever. He's ZAYN - the latest obsession in the music industry. He can fucking do this.

Of course, Harry Styles can't catch the hint that Zayn is _perfectly_ fine. He just happens to be present at the same pre-Grammys party that Zayn is attending. He just happens to catch Zayn awkwardly flirting. He just happens to stumble into Zayn's life when least expected. Zayn is stuck in the path of Harry's orbit, and nothing makes him feel more infuriated (and lucky) to know Harry.

As soon as Zayn spots Harry making his way over, he starts to brace himself for the inevitable crash.

"Hi darling," Harry greets the girl. He's all pretense and showboating. Zayn is too busy trying not to freak out that he tunes out whatever words the two of them exchange. She seems confused but not too affected. Harry seems to demand attention; he seems to crave the constant pampering and compliments. Without a complaint, Zayn would offer everything he had and more to Harry. Zayn admires how the girl doesn't immediately make space for Harry. Begrudgingly, Zayn admits that he wishes he could do the same.

Suddenly, Harry is right before his presence, and Zayn's thoughts are no longer scattered. All his senses are zeroed in and screaming to him  _Harry, Harry, Harry._

"Hi babe," Harry says. Zayn wonders if it hurts to smile so wide. "Sorry, is this lady bothering you?"

"No we're good," Zayn replies, his voice as even as possible. It's not exactly a lie. He was handling the situation just fine. So what if his eyes strayed away occasionally? So what if his thoughts strayed away to dimples and green eyes?

Undaunted, Harry continues smiling. He brushes Zayn's elbow, letting his touch linger. 

 _Oh, so this is how it's going to be,_ Zayn thinks. He leans into Harry's touch and smiles at him just as sweetly, just as dangerously.

"You look nice," Harry tells him innocently. His eyes are so wide and welcoming that anyone other than Zayn would be fooled. They are somehow even greener than usual - _Honeydew Melon green,_ Zayn thinks absentmindedly, and he almost kicks himself for the far too specific art reference. He can't seem to shake Harry out of his system; he can't seem to completely tuck away the images of soft lips and the memories of soft touches into the recesses of his mind.

"You too," Zayn responds equally politely. He squares his shoulders to make himself look bigger.

Harry laughs and throws his head back even though Zayn's words aren't funny at all. Still, Zayn finds his lips twitching a little anyways, all too caught up in the awkwardness of this exchange and a sense of familiarity. Harry's neck is bare and exposed, and Zayn itches to leave a mark on the pale skin. He inches forward subconsciously.

"Like I said, you look nice," Harry drawls out. He leans in slowly (and somehow at the same time, too quickly) with a smirk on his face. "But you would look even nicer with your clothes off."

Zayn's breath hitches against his own will. Harry must sense the small shift in Zayn's body language the same way Zayn can read the tiniest spark in Harry's eyes because Harry leans back immediately, pleased at winning this game. 

Next to them, someone clears their throat pointedly. Harry nearly jumps in the air, startled. Zayn would make fun of him if he hadn't forgotten about Gina/Jenna/whatever himself.

"Okay, you two clearly have some issues to work through." Zayn is pretty sure that it's Gina. "Maybe I should go."

She starts to move away, but she pauses and hesitates at the very last minute, looking between Harry and Zayn with a strange look on her face. Gina opens her mouth most likely about to ask a question Zayn is afraid to answer, but thankfully, Harry intervenes and makes the decision for her.

"It was nice meeting you. Bye Anna." Harry recovers quickly. He plasters another of those fake smiles Zayn despises on his face and kisses Anna (apparently) on the cheek. The fucking nerve.

Anna blushes and stumbles away with her hand brushing her cheek. Zayn would feel more offended if he didn't have personal experience with the Harry Styles Effect TM.

Zayn would _like_ to fuck Harry Styles. Zayn would _love_ to make Harry Styles crawl out of his own skin, would love to make Harry Styles beg for it.

Close by, a man with a scruffy beard catches his eye and winks. He's probably just being friendly, but Zayn lets his gaze linger for a while. 

Zayn isn't the only one who notices the man staring. Harry observes the exchange quietly with an unreadable expression on his face. It makes Zayn feel a little hysterical, a little tempted to turn to Harry with an equally condescending smirk and say, _See? Other, better people want me too._ Zayn doesn't say a word though because he's good - _too good_ - at holding his tongue. Harry doesn't offer anything because he's good -  _too good_ \- at holding his ground.

They both push each other. Sometimes through words. Sometimes through harsh kisses. Most of time through fucking.

They both hate how neither person is willing to concede.

"Like I said, you look nice too," Zayn mimics Harry word for word because Zayn is useless and incapable of not committing everything that Harry does to his brain. He leans in because he knows how to be an asshole too. Harry suddenly stops moving for the first time that night, and Zayn takes advantage of it. Zayn aligns his hips with Harry's and presses himself against Harry until nothing but fabric separates them. "But you would look even nicer with my hand around your cock."

He crowds Harry against the wall until they're hidden from sight. Someone could still walk in on them at any moment, but it's not like he and Harry have a penchant for doing things safely and correctly. Their entire relationship is a dangerous game.

Zayn undoes Harry's pants swiftly. The motion feels too familiar. He relishes in it. His fingers skim the very tip of Harry's cock and pull back just as quickly.

"Already hard, babe?"

"Don't be a fucking tease," Harry's demand comes out more like a plea.  

"I learned from the best babe," Zayn replies. He's not proud of his strangled voice. 

"I fucking hate you, _babe_."

"Doesn't sound like you hate me right now."

Zayn continues stroking Harry again, pulling his hand back every few seconds just so he can focus on the sound of Harry's panting. He's very proud of that.

"You're an asshole," Harry says when they finally separate and catch their breaths. He won't even look at Zayn. His eyes are darting around helplessly. The sight reminds Zayn like prey caught in a trap. He doesn't feel like a winner anymore. He feels more like a predator. It's not the same thing.

"Yeah," Zayn admits, resigned. They're back to where they begun. "So are you."

"You don't regret it though," Harry states. It's not a question. His eyes are flaring, no longer soft and mellow.

 _There's that famous Harry Styles confidence again,_ Zayn thinks.

"Well, do you?"

"Fuck, Harry. I don't regret it. Any of it. That's the thing. You, like, ask for so much and never, like, give back as much. You know?"

"I don't give back? I gave you so much more than I give to everyone else." Harry sounds hurt and confused. Not for the first time, Zayn genuinely believes that Harry thinks that late nights at hotel rooms after a big concert or award show are a lot to offer. Harry is always moving around and finding shinier things to be enraptured by. It's a wonder that he ever came back to Zayn at all.

That's the worst part. They are both right, and they both feel right _together_. Yet somehow, they don't feel right for each other.

"I give you what I can," Harry says tiredly. "I'm sorry that's not enough. But still, I'm going to offer it to you again. Zayn, would you like to come home with me today?"

Easy. It would be so fucking easy to wrap himself around Harry and fall into old routines.

But having to go back to his daily life without Harry? That's not as mindlessly easy. Zayn can't pretend that he doesn't feel Harry's absence. He can't pretend there isn't that one spot in his heart where Harry should be that doesn't ache.

"No," He responds firmly.

"Okay," Harry supplies with giving his feelings away. He doesn't look angry or surprised. In fact, he looks a little proud of Zayn's decision.

Zayn's too wrapped up in Harry. It's not even an obstacle or dilemma that he has to resolve. At this point, it's just a constant itch right above his heart. Maybe a few years ago — hell, maybe even one year ago when all he could feel and think was _Harry, Harry, Harry_  — Zayn would have given in to the all too tempting sensations. But he's older and wiser now. He's no longer that stupid boy who would wait outside of his bandmate's room for a quick, drunk snog at eleven p.m. and sneak out of the room before midnight bashfully like a cat with its tail tucked in.

It's taken some time to grow up. It'll take more time to grow up. It'll take more secret snogs in the dark and painful love songs to grow up.

But Zayn? He's going to be okay. His painful love song is number one. Even if Harry's ridiculously pink lips are hellbent on pulling him apart, Zayn will be  _okay_.

"I'll see you later," Harry says as Zayn starts to depart. It's the first promise in a long time that Zayn believes Harry will keep. Harry presses his lips to Zayn's cheek, sealing the promise.

Zayn nods and makes his way to door. He can't bring himself to touch the door knob just yet. His hand stills.

"Harry?" He calls out the small figure in the dark. Harry immediately turns toward the direction of the voice. Voices, bodies, kisses. They always respond to one another in some way. "You have my number, yeah? Call me when you run out of places and people to explore and realize that what you really want is right here."

**Author's Note:**

> I love comments! This is my first fic, so please go easy ha.
> 
> Come [say hi](http://saresa.tumblr.com)!


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